Passionfruit
by Doughnut of Ericks
Summary: *Wish Series* Eriol Hiiragizawa accidently caused an angelic, mute woman to faint in his arms on a spring morning. With time for her to heal, this maiden agrees to a deal that forces them to act as lovers. Is it all an act? Will this last forever?
1. Apricot

Passionfruit A Clamp Love Story Written by Nikki Miyazawa, more commonly known as silver_dragonfly  
  
Review: The angel Tomoyo and her Eriol had seperated because of destiny. Now, Eriol has no memory of his lady love and accidently caused an angelic mute woman to faint in his arms. With time for her to heal, they act like lifetime friends and tender husband and wife during her recovery at his home. Will that be enough to last a lifetime?  
  
A/N and the Sheepish Disclaimer: Okay, everyone. A bit confused. Well, here is to cutting a long story short. I first wrote this story in the plot line of another CLAMP (the girls who wrote CardCaptor Sakura) manga called Wish, but I decided that it would be better as a Tomoyo and Eriol Vintage Romance, that what I call my old-fashioned stories for TxE. CardCaptor Sakura doesn't belong to me, this is the first and last time I'm going to say it, cause . . . :::sniff::: if I say that Eriol and my Eriol plushie doesn't belong to me, I'm going to cry out of heartbreak. :::sniff::: I'm going to die! (hugging Eriol plushie way too tight, but i love it) And that beautiful, extraordinary piece of poetry at the beginning is not mine, but the wonderful poetess named Sarah Teasdale. Thanks, Sarah!  
  
Important Notice: I might not update as soon. I do the best I can. I'm only a working intern trying to get some money by spending time writing letters for the India doctors. Got translate those letters. It's hard to translate foreign languages!  
  
A/N: This "**********" means the point of view changed.  
  
Part One - Chapter One  
  
(Okay, before you read the story, here is the what happens before the story, so you sheepies won't get confused. Tomoyo is a naive, but kind angel on a mission to find another fallen angel who was missing. On her mission, she meets a hot surgeon by the name of Eriol Hiiragizawa who saves her from a demon crow (I know it's wierd). She owes him one wish, and starts to live with the guy, until I decides on the wish. Okay, during their living together, they fall in love. When his wish turned out to be that Eriol wanted Tomoyo to stay with him forever, well, God and his cousins, Fate and Destiny, didn't have the power to permit that because of complications. But God, being the really cool guy up there, decided that they could start a brand new life with her as a human to win back her man. The only problem is they erased his memory of her because of complications, and now the story begins . . .  
  
  
  
Before you kissed me only winds of heaven  
  
Had kissed me, and the tenderness of rain -  
  
Now you have come, how can I care for kisses  
  
Like theirs again? - Sarah Teasdale, a stanza from "The Kiss"  
  
Why is love that cruel game life plays?  
  
I knew my simply question was not deserving of my situation on earth. I knew I had no right to curse God for the pain he caused me just because I knew not to play with destiny. Yet, here I am, that abandoned celestial being who once were, blinded by the silks of love. Did it matter of the wings I beared and the glow I shattered amongst the dark shadows of Eriol's chaotic abode?  
  
Now when God forbid my returning to earth, I sank into a deeper depression. Until, that one bittersweet morn, He granted my only wish that best that Fate and Destiny allowed. To remove my divinity and wings for the sake of being a human, a human could love (name of guy) at last. Yet I had one bitter fact behind their shadowed fates.  
  
He is not to remember the existance of me. Sweet Eriol would not hold the memory of my love for him dear, nor would he even remember I had ever existed. So many tears have been shed. Why did things have to remain this way? Fate and Destiny, the twin goddesses who had a hand in playing with people's hearts, souls, and minds, had decided it would have been better if his memory would be free of me. It would always remain like this. When a celestial cherub sought out an assignment, so very much like mine, a human might take part in assisting the angel. However after, the prized companion gained by a journey would be erased of any memory.  
  
It has been like this for years. Eons and eons ago, this eternal law has imprinted itself in the clouds. Here, as I bike through the sun-kissed sidewalks of Tokyo, I could feel the pearl tears falling endlessly from my auburn eyes. It would not stop, even if I willed and commanded it. Butterflies of plum blossoms showered everywhere with its rainfall of blue ecsasy. Gently innocent, a stray blossom found comfort in the weaves of my amethyst hair.  
  
How could one blossom release unlimited warmth in my coldest shadows? When one question replaced the next, my mind was drowning in the thought. I wasn't conscious of the world outside my soul. Not conscious enough to draw the reality of Fate's little games. With my vintage bike in hand, I stoll through the walkways, gazing fondly at the sight of two lovers who seemed to share the joy of passion. Smothered by theirs kisses, the world seemed dimmed to anything else. I contained a belated sigh with all the longing I had collected.  
  
Screech!!! The blinding light of the headlights drew me in a state of shock. Since God has gifted me with mortality, emotions seemed to come easily in an uncanny sort of way. A string of colorful curses sting the air with its profanity. Tires radiated a strong fume of burning asphalt and rubber. Black opaque, the car mirrored the shiny exterior the finest automobiles ever made. I knew not of the reason of my strong will of weakness, or the knowledge of why I fainted into the darkness of being unconscious. The conclusion was that the last, beautiful sight I retreived was of the looming shadow of a man with a scent I could regognize a lifetime away.  
  
Eriol Hiiragizawa.  
  
Then everything fell into the austere silence of pitch-black night beneath my eyelids. Black. And all I could think of was Eriol and the vow he never made that caused us our hearts.  
  
A/N: Should I stop there? Sorry, but since I have so much work that needs to be done around the harsh world called earth, my fanfic have to draw to a close. . . for now!  
  
You think, I would do that to you? No way. . . okay, maybe sometimes, but I'm an honest gal.  
  
********** Something was missing. I felt it in the moist, barren air. A part of me has been torn away, leaving me almost souless. However, the problem was that I had no memory of this infinate emptiness. The darkness seemed to consume me and mold my very existance into this cold, ruthless rouge of a docter who plays with woman's hearts and bodies.  
  
Like I mind, as I thought with a smug half-smile, with my gaze wandering through the black leather interior of my Mustang. This was what life is made of. Cash. Power. Sex. My mind kept wandering aimlessly to my accomplishments that I couldn't see the road in which I drove one.  
  
Screech! At once, my black hole of a heart skipped a minute beat, not because of my near-death experience, or rather near-homicidal/murder excuse, but that blur of angelic white in the close distance. A woman, a rather striking, glowing maiden, stood for a moment with those wide, bewitching wine-colored eyes staring innocently at me. If my eyes fooled me, opaque wings fluttered from her back and then disappeared into the blue. Emotions smothered her eyes: fear, surprise, rememberance?  
  
The girl fell gracefully upon the floor, her bike following her lead. Exhaustion or simply out of shock, this "angel" looked unhealthy beautiful as she lay scattered in contrast with the faded hues of the sidewalk. I approached, taking in her extraordinary sight. Strands of curled sun's rays curved along her heart shaped face, embracing every soft angle with its Midas' touch.  
  
I frowned at the state of being she was in at the exact moment. Laying innocently seductive in the streets did not fair well with the maiden, so I decided with the very little sanctity I seem to possess since I glimpsed at this tiny pixie to bring her home. Did that picture reasonably? With a gentle caress I didn't find with other women, I lifted her effortlessly into my brawn arms.  
  
Feather-light. I observed that her fragile, tiny body molded perfectly into mine, as if it was meant to be something so wonderfully right. I frowned again at this young woman. Such emotions and thought were silly and fake. The woman was just an object of a lustful tease, nothing more and nothing less.  
  
"What to do with you? What to do with you, angel? I can't simply leave you here for rapists and murders to destroy your innocence. The guilt will eat me up. I'll take you home. Maybe there might be an answer once Sleeping Beauty wakes up."  
  
I murmered to myself, having a silent conversation with this girl. The pile of scrap metal that was considered a bike lay desperately on the floor. To bring it or not to bring it that was the question. It glared at me with the scythe of guilt consuming my ever fiber.  
  
Would she fear if that scrap was gone? Would a tear dare streak that porcelain face if she realize that her bike was left for the vultures? Why did I care? Shuichiro, man, think lust. Lust, damn it. So with a heavy heart, I brought the obsidian bicycle in the rear of my car, with the girl placed warmly beside me. I drove to what seemed the longest eternity until I reached my newly bought penthouse by the sea.  
  
For some insane, inexpilcable reason, I felt that apartment I inhabitat for some time had a haunted fate, with the ghost of something I forgotten a lifetime ago in every corner. Laughter and smiles could be heard and seen. At one time, a feather with the most delicate scent was found next to my journal. I had to leave this recollection of old faded photographs of a dream that appear to real for its likes. I had to escape to the melody of the sea, a place cherished by myself because of the confort it brought.  
  
Carrying the lightweight bundle, warm and fragrant, in my cold, nerving house fit for the rich bachelor, I drifted to the way she brought a light to the shadows in the corners. Finally, my destination has found me, even with my lean strides. The girl was laid on the collasal black bed, finding her miniscule size less intimidating with the reminder that everything else was more superior and grander than she. Money. Greed. Power. She had no power over me for I stood for all those grander than she. I would rule her, bed her, and get rid of this outrageous obsession for her puzzle fit in my life.  
  
Damn it. She was already a nuisance to me, even when the angel fluttered off into some dream world of the unconscious. Let her sleep for now, but once Sleeping Beauty wakes, my simple seduction to the fair maiden will begin. A stray finger caressed the contours of her cheek. It grazed gently above her wild rose blush, tasting the ivory texture of it all. The surge of desire washed over me. Before I decided to ravish her now, I need to maintain control. Please, Kami, help me.  
  
Control. Control. My gaze brushed against her angelic figure. Damn! Control. Its continuous mantra kept alienating my head. Air and a few moments to think was the cure of this insane lust. A walk in the sandy shores sounds like a welcome mate that explicitly states "welcome" on both sides of the grass. Grass? Sand? What the hell am I ranting about? Darting off, I left the maiden side to seek out the little sanity I had left. It was somewhere missing, and I need to find it. Soon.  
  
********** (How about now? Should I stop it here? Maybe. Maybe Not. About Now? Huh? Okie, no. I love it when you guys are so dependent on my writing. It's hilarious; I feel like the Queen of England minus the lace and extra fat. No offense to the Queen.)  
  
Salt. I could taste the saltine crisp of the ocean in the air, as I woke a few hours later. Everything was in a blanket of dimming darkness mixed with grays of aquamarine. A window view of my surroundings drew me to a state of neverending silence.  
  
I couldn't speak, nor breathe. Certainly, heaven was not as perfect as it seems, or maybe it was too perfect. Nirvana of my God had always kept things glowing purely without the dents of evil and imperfection. But here, this serene ocean waves trousling the sky with its beauty had kissed Aphrodite herself. Oceans would never exist in heaven. It was too unsettling, chaotic. It could create a scene of beauty hidden with its siren of death. An underwater graveyard, if one will. So caught up with the debut of this masterpiece, my hearing failed to sense the strides of footsteps nearing the doorway.  
  
"Magnificent sight, isn't it, angel? A real beauty to withhold. I nearly fell in love with it at first sight."  
  
I kept silent at the lustrious voice, thick and deep like the sight in which he referred to. It felt wonderful to hear him speak even if Eriol had no idea who I was, what we were, and what we could have become. Angel? Did he know? Still silence kept me still.  
  
Moments passed as our gazes lingered towards the sea. A cough or two could be hear through the awkard understanding.  
  
"Not talking, are we? So angel, cat got your tongue?"  
  
Now my breath grew short, distant and broken. Inching towards me with only an inch from the warmth of our bodies, Eriol bended closely, his mouth nearing the curve of my throat. I closed my eyes to keep still the war raging inside of me. Desire was never my strongest point and now it was overflowing me with lustful thoughts. Naughty ones, as well.  
  
This was so unlike an angel to think of this sin. Yet, I was not an angel anymore. The body in which I lived through was human. Now I was experiencing a human sin. Adam and Eve couldn't keep their hands off each other, so why should I? (Okie, I know kind of OOC, but this is mah story. Bite me.) My eyes moved to his raven locks and his smug smile. Thin strips of very delicate lips formed an amused smile knowing all the emotions I was feeling beneath my skin. He was doing this on purpose!  
  
"Still not talking, are we? Let me see, if I can get something out of you."  
  
Long and callus, a finger drew fine circles on the silk of her neck. Something this sultry was never laughable. I stiffed, not by the reason of the resistance, but because I enjoyed it. Mortal sin should never be shown to an angel whom never enjoyed such pleasures. My eyes closed in the grand state I was; it was like. . . heaven! Excuse the pun. A traitor groan escaped from my mouth with my soft fingers trying to block the coming of this advantage to man! The "Adam" that bewitched Eve let go a few chuckles to his "pet."  
  
"Now, at least I know you are incapable of pleasure."  
  
The way he drawled his final word was enough to make Hades' mistresses shiver in damnation. Yet, I left one small fact about this operation that I should have stated at the beginning. I was mute, not able to speak because of the circumstance in which I could blurt out the simple truth. It was that, or getting seperated for eternity.  
  
Beloved, why would you want a mute person? You deserve a perfect human to love you for the rest of your life. To grow old and faded like a cherished photograph when time has ended for us. Why would you love me? With my lithe, tiny shape, I easily fled from his embrace to find myself trapped against the wall by his strong arms. Heat was radiating from his body to mine, and my body with the same intensity.  
  
What if he kissed me?  
  
The "what if's" didn't really matter at the moment, for at that time, his lips descended to mine. I gasped. Catching me in a heated kiss, emotions filled me like nothing should. It felt good; I said with a guilty conscience. No regrets now. Beneathe the kiss, I could taste the satisfied smirk upon his handsome face. Remember no regrets. So what if this was merely out of proud lust? He looked at a pretty face and conquered her, leaving women in an ocean of tears, drowning in the emotions.  
  
He was a womanizer, a rouge. Yet Eriol Hiiragzawa was my soulmate, and my love blinded all his insensitive aspects that make up this man. That didn't stop the pain from searing my heart. Kisses left his vulnerable, so I escaped his cage once again. I ran with all the distance my thin legs could possibly reach. I tried to overrun him, to escape his cruel behavior. This game of cat and mouse ended in the shores of the ocean where I fell upon the sand exhausted and panting, tasting the silent tears like a reflection in rippled water.  
  
I looked up to the shadow of a man I loved forevermore.  
  
His worried look on his face explained the man she knew reaching out, not this cold bastard that aroused her innermost passion. Can't you see my pain? Eyes met - soft ambers and midnight darkness - and everything was understand as if minds could be read faithfully. I looked up with a scared mouse expression, hair trousled. His face changed. Everything was at peace with its surroundings, the ocean could barely be heard from the intense drum beat of my heart.  
  
"You're mute, aren't you? I'm sorry . . . terribly sorry . . . angel."  
  
With the gentle touch of his hands, he drew me towards him and into the sanctuary of his arms, locked into an embrace that kissed away my sorrows. (How terribly cliche! Who writes this crap? Oh ya. . . I do. Gawd, help me.) Words of comfort was heard whispered in a low seductive baritone, sending a shiver trailing along my spine. Oh dear, how am I going to survive with cowering far away from him?  
  
"Angel, it's going to be fine. I'll take care of you, promise I will."  
  
Scooped me into his arms and carrying the lightweight bundle into the bungalow, here, against the romantic caress of the ocean's siren callings, we started a new beginning as friends. Forevermore, I promised. We will remain the best of friends forevermore without those scalding hot kisses and embraces. This was our destiny. However, I didn't know that my companion thought otherwise.  
  
(Ohhh. . . naughty Eriol, I told you don't touch that cherry pie! No, you real perverts out there. It's really a cherry pie. Eriol and I are baking pies! La. La. La. Really, people and their sick, demented souls! May you perish in the fiery pits of hell! Die! Die! *laughs evilishly, evilishly? is that word?* Sorry, I got a bit out of hand. *evil nikki comes out* No, I'm not sorry. Die, heathens! *good nikki bangs bad nikki with a club, drags her back to limbo line* )  
  
Review, my sheepies. Or Bo Bo the Very Scary Clown will kick you. He's mean, I hate him too. 


	2. Plum

Okay, my feelings are hurt. No one reviewed my story, and I work hard on those cold winter nights. I forgive because the beginning is kind of confusing, but if I don't get at least 20 reviews, I'm going to erase all those chapters I've already finished. Here is Chapter Two. ::sniff::  
  
Part One - Chapter Two  
  
So days passed by, filled with more joy and mirth from my bachelor days. It was as if that little beacon of sunlight, angel, had brought something meaningful apart from women, work, and booze. This girl without a name had appeared in my life and transformed it into laughter and smiles, teasings and funny faces. I tend to keep it that way, here with the girl be my side.  
  
Here, as I watch, blessed Angel sweep away abundant piles of fallen leaves, in vain, the leaves, mercilessly scattered with the wind's hand once again after she piled them in a neat package. (Okay, is there trees near the ocean? Of coarse there is! *someone replies "no it doesn't!* from the background and now he is lying with a BOOT stuck in his mouth, a gift for the holidays* Yes there is! I know there is because I have a um . . . book! ya, that's what that thing with paper stuck together, right? A book that tells all about . . . uh, what are we talking about again? Oh ya, stuff. *my room is the exact duplicate of Wayne's World)  
  
Leaves entangled themselves in her hair's violet embrace, and a pout present gave her a complete look of tempting innocence. There it goes again, flying away from her pile. Rather amusing, if you ask me.  
  
Exsaperated, she clumsily tumbles on what's left of the leaf pile, enveloping her in the sea of maples and reds. This was when I decided to join her in the "bed" of leaves. Once I lay aside from Angel in the rustling leaves, my hand abscently started to stroke her hair. Instinct weaved my long, lithe finger against the silk. How soft it felt, like her skin. . . and maybe her - okay, that's enough erotic things for a moment. She whispered a small sigh, probably the most heavenly sound I've ever heard. It took resistance to not take her then and there amongst her enemies, the leaves. Also, it amazed me that Angel could let out small noises, even a laugh or giggle, but she can't talk at all. Can mute people do that? Never mind, my nonsense.  
  
"Angel? Having trouble with the evil leaves, sweetheart? Give it a rest and enjoy the sky? Quite beautiful, like you, don't you think?"  
  
I gaze at her blushing figure. Another amusement was her easily made blushes when I teased her eternally. However like many things, it complimented her beauty.  
  
"Sweetheart. Love. Caro. Innamorata. Darling. Toots. Dear heart. They're all things to call you. Which do you like the best? Would it mean anything to you when I call you "love?" I rather prefer Sweetheart. Suits you, doesn't it? You are very sweet."  
  
I loomed over her, both hands at her sides, trapping her like the week before.  
  
"I'd like to taste you for dessert. A treat, something so unbearably addicting I'll ask for more. Something like you."  
  
Our lips were moments away from dessert, when her tiny hand tried a vain attempt to push me away. In which I secured in my hand, cradling the small thing into a kiss at the hand's back. I gave a few sensual kisses, my tongue bearly tasting the peaches and cream texture of her hand. How very sweet this felt against my tongue.  
  
Then to the crook of her neck, the prize of a swan's envious gaze. Placing tiny bites where ever the horizon reached, a primitive growl came from my mouth. I wasn't the only one enjoying this. Dear sweatheart had her eyes shut closed in pleasure and cherry mouth a bit parted. At her picture, I took a big bite at her mouth. I devour every inch of that luscious dessert, the most insatiable treat I've ever gotten. Everywhere, my teeth nipped at hers. Then, I lifted my head, rather reluctantly, and looked at the leftover of my dessert. A second helping. Yet I wouldn't take another bite, if I wanted to ravish her on a pile of leaves. Which would probably scare her off.  
  
My hand brushed away a leave that handed at the base of her neck, brushing against the infinite softness.  
  
"Come, sweetheart. Let's get some dessert. You need your energy to do the chores. You after all are my servant to pay for staying here. Not that I mind your company. Come, sweetheart. Let's eat."  
  
And so we did. Yet, I craved more than a few butter biscuits and green tea. So much more than simple pleasures of the tongue.  
  
*********** The washing device that cleans clothes into a new bleached fit spun around and around with suds everywhere. It was quite amusing to watch actually. Curiousity made me an attentive worker, or so that's why Eriol-kun told me. Once I finished washing his clothes and a few of mine, I folded it in neat little packages in the basket and went on my way, carrying his heavy load of laundry. Laundry. Such a funny word. A giggle escaped my mouth. Laundry. Laundry. Lau -  
  
"Sweetheart. You need help with that?"  
  
A voice from the front called out. I knew it was Eriol, from his endearment to his scent screamed out the undescribable person that I call my soulmate. My slacking arms demanded his aid, weary they seemed to be. Yet, pride, another of those damned emotions. Oh dear, I cursed again. It seems to happen more often than usual. Pride had made the torchure to my arms prolong even more. I didn't want him to see my other weakness apart from the mute situation I found myself in. It proves I'm less worthy of him than I am normally.  
  
I shook my head a silent "no." However, Eriol, being the masculine "macho man" he is, decided that my "no" didn't exist in his one-page dictionary. A tug on the mahogany basket was made by my vain love's hand, yet I kept my thin grip on it. Sooner than we think, a massive tug-of-war was taking place in the laundry room. A pull earned a tug; a tug gained a pull. So and so. Then from the World War 3 that took place, the starch white linens and cotton shirts flew in the air, smothering us in their fresh scent. It was like a snowfall; everything was covered in its white embrace.  
  
Yet, it felt nothing like a snowfall, emotionally. It wasn't inspiring or gorgeously ivory. All my hard work, the things that proper wives were meant to do, was on the floor again. The same dust-covered clothes that came the washing device. Simply, because I couldn't do my stupid job! I am a pathetic excuse of a wife, now Eriol won't except me. Tears threaten to spill and fall on the linens, but that would cause more chaos.  
  
My gaze lingered on Eriol, who at the moment appeared to be smothered in . . . erm, my underware. The lacy pink frills covered his eye as he wore the asset quite in a red face that clashed with the pink satin quite horrendously. Laughter attacked my self-control with a useless defense with its melody mocking the very red Eriol Hiiragizawa. A boyish arch of his eyebrow explained his amusement rather than anger.  
  
"You think this is funny, don't you? While you laugh at my riduculous fashion statement on my head, which I have to applaud the fine taste in lingerie. Pink, I never thought."  
  
So now it was my turn to turn an unpleasant pink, like my laced underwear. Mirroring the same chorus laughter, Eriol kept smiling that smile while laughing with his comical self. Suddenly, an emotion I've never felt before gushed inside like Old Faitful of Yosemite. Frustration and anger. Anger spilled loudly on my face, as I stomped myself away leaving a man and his scattered laundry. I didn't want to leave the scattered laundry, it means more to me than the man. So I stopped to gather it, earning an arrogant chuckle from Shuichiro.  
  
But, stubborn, dogged Eriol wouldn't give up with my first warning. He insisted to carry the large bundle from me, creating the Fourth World War. Yet, he cheated his way to victory, that man used a weakness that I seem to possess. Finger, slender and delicate so very much like the surgeon he was, approached the corners of my belly. Then he massacre my inside my using my ticklish fetish. Tickled here and there, every inch was conquered, until I was red with laughter.  
  
My grip on the basket released, then caught by the theif himself. Not only had he caught his laundry, but thrown me over his shoulder as if I was some inanimate object to carry. Such cavemen actions! I hmphed at him, arms crossing in a defying gesture and tongue stuck out in the most childish implication of boys with "germs."  
  
The man never seems to surrender to anything! We continue on our journey to his bedroom to drop off his clothes. When we reached our heavenly destination, I found myself landing on the soft contours of his bed and next to me, the laundry basket. He sat next to me, then possessively drags me to his lap. Snug and fit, I sat questioningly at him and found a fir burning through his eyes. Still a bit annoyed at him, I stuck my tongue out again. Gaining an explosive laugh from him, he moved, and my tongue accidently grazed against the soft cartilage of his ear.  
  
He stiffened and shot the same heated gaze towards my direction. Lips were connected in a desired kiss filled with all the extended control gone. I could only see him, only him with his scent and taste. His fingers skimmed everwhere where a few buttons where undone. Then my unexpected gasp and fear rushed through my veins and turned into a scared expression upon the curves of my face. Being the observant man Eriol was, he saw that fear.  
  
His expression hardened into a rigid face of irritance.  
  
"Don't come near me again if you don't want to be raped. I have my self- control and my dignity, but I don't know when that will last. Sweetheart, next time I won't hold back. Next time, desire will take me as his puppet and claim his insatiable prize. Next time, my dear."  
  
There, he left with a dramatic wind of nature out the door with a slam caused my power. I shivered at the dominance he holds, how Eriol Hiiragizawa can merely take a kiss to render me helpless in his spell. I wonder how long I could hold, until I can't hold back anymore.  
  
To this I have to confess the secret I've been holding. Much to the extent of my love for the man, I can not give him what other perfect woman can. I, on the other hand am not a beautiful and intelligent model of existance, so my mission I have concluded for myself personally was to prepare him for when the time comes I find him a perfect housewife. A sacrifice that will kill me forever, but possibly for the best. How can I refuse him when I cannot refuse my own passion. Oh, hateful creature of burning passion. When did I taste your forbidden passion fruit?  
  
With I becoming the loser in all his unfair battles, emotions of human came easier, and so I found myself burning with desire for a man beyond my soul. Burning in the pits of hell for thinking of the most illicit thoughts given by my first taste of the passion fruit. With my tousled hair and disarrayed clothing, I wept at my passion and my loss. I curled into a tight round ball like a confused, pained kitten, thinking of days without end of a man I loved with all my existance.  
  
On the other side of the wall seperating two souls, the man closes his daring eyes and listen to her pleading tears with silent ones trailing along his face. Thinking that these tears were simply the sign of stressed passion and an impatient libido. Yet, his heart burned at the sound of the pained cries his lover had made, wishing that "living happily" ever after seemed closer than it seemed.  
  
"I apologize, sweetheart. I ache for you with a passion that might drive you away. And . . . I don't want to wake another day alone. Please, I don't want to be alone."  
  
A/N: That is so sad. Man, I feel really depressed now. Poor Eriol-chan! Oh, I love this fic. It's so cute, entirely different from my other ones. Oh, for the Harry Potter Fanfic fan in you. . . you might want to check out Lustful Expectations, which I didn't update for a lifetime already. Jeez, I'm sorry to all those L.E. maniacs out there, but I still got a life . . . or maybe I'm just trying too hard to get one.  
  
Tsukuku. 


	3. Persimmon

Hey, sorry that this chapter is so short, but I've neen frustrated with llamas. What is with these llamas? This chapter is kinda a drag because the lack of reviews is no inspiration. But if you are good, I'll make chapter four a llama! Hopefully, that's a good thing.  
  
Part One - Chapter Three  
  
Red and concealed with a dignified purple wax seal, this envelope practically let out the shrew cry of "I'm important, only for the rich and perfect people. Get your hands off me, you peasant!" I felt it pulse through my hands; the shock of its glow almost made it slip from my hands into the undeserving floor. On the front, there was a carefully written text titled to a "Doctor Eriol Hiiragizawa." It practically reaked wealth, and I wondered if Eriol was a man that, er. . . associated with this kind of people.  
  
With the stealth of a mouse, I crept quietly into the office room, quiet and empty of its owner. Once I dropped the red letter unto the top of the mahogany base, a voice rang out from behind.  
  
"What's that, sweeheart?"  
  
Ironically, I turned around to face Eriol Hiiragizawa, a man of wealth and dignity sitting in an scarlet ottoman looking desirable in his business suit. Cautiously, I shrugged my head in question. My hand handed the envelope to him, trying desperately not to brush against his hand, yet God's mighty humor, would not allow such a thing, and felt the coursing shiver rush through me as they both touched. I drew back like it was burning flames, scorching me with it.  
  
A curved eyebrow showed amusement, and at that, I growled menacingly. Always to mock or humiliate me, I swear that's his plan during my stay here. A moment later, after his eyes skimmed through the mail, I waited impatiently for his response to the mystery of the scarlet letter. Once he read it, a sigh escape from his mouth, and his face looked like a bored mess. Obviously, he was oblivious to my interest in finding out about the contents of that dammed envelope. I coughed rather obviously to get his undivided attention, yet I knew even if I strip danced in front of him, Dr. Hiiragizawa was going to ignore me as usual.  
  
But there was times when a tiny whisper from a wandering butterfly could inspire him to such depth in listening. Fortunately, this was one of those times.  
  
"Yes? Wondering what this is, my curious little angel? Well . . . um, it's something that doesn't concern you much. You may leave."  
  
There, he dismissed me with a brief wave of the hand, like a master would do with a servant. Such arrogance! My hands found the curve of my hip, standing with the best intimidating position I can possibly do. Being an ex- angel didn't help much, however. Imagine a rather tiny rabbit trying to scare off a fox at the point of his eating her.  
  
"Fine. Sure, I will tell you everything you need to know about this letter if you promise to grant me one wish and a kiss from the lovely lady."  
  
I tried to breathe, seriously. But when Eriol spoke a word about granting a wish, it reminded me about the days a lifetime ago when that was the only thing that concerned her: make Eriol Hiiragizawa's wishes come true to repay the hospitality and heroic deeds of a wonderful man, with somehow falling in love with him in the journey ahead. Curiousity attacked silently, clawing my back into its stupor. I wanted to know what was in that scarlet letter, even if it cost painful memories and kiss that will lead to more regrets seeping in through my wounds.  
  
I nodded.  
  
"Come here. I shall tell you what I desire, and you must absolutely follow my wishes."  
  
Closer, I stepped forward into his trap, knowing too well that it was cost me more than a kiss and a simple wish. When I stood a foot away, denying to go any more steps to my eternal doom, those arms of his, ohh, I do love those arms, yet I seem to dislike it very much right now, encircled around my waist, drawing me into an intimate position on his lap. Like some absurd version of Santa Claus and a child.  
  
I gasped at the sudden abruptness and embarressing situation I have found myself in, gaining another conceited chuckle from Eriol. Lips tickled the soft skin on my sensitive little ear, as he drew a long, exasperating breath.  
  
"Mmm. You smell divine. Sweetheart, you immortal sin. Well, you want to know what's it about. The red envelope? It is an invitation to one of L'Andres insane parties. An annual rendezvous for the company that sponsers our hospital. This one is to support the new raise in allowances towards the hospital if I can persuade him. This is where you come in."  
  
All this was whispered softly in her ear, as if it was an illicit secret, confidential to the world. Where did a mute woman play in all this? What can I possibly do?  
  
"You are to play my fiance. L'Andres is rather fond of men with families. I figure that with a woman, a rather attractive one, at that, is by my side, I will win the heart of L'Andres and his money."  
  
The news practically blew me away, literally. At the words spoken from his mouth, I started and nearly fell if Eriol didn't capture me around his embrace once again. This was insane. Propostrous! Impossible, far-fetched. I did not want anything to do with this scam. The idea of playing an act of sharing intimate signs of love and acting the loving couple seemd almost a dream come true. Yet in the end, it would hurt me in the most bittersweet way; reality will draw me back to earth to face the hard, cold facts that this charade wasn't true. That he didn't love me, and I was just an imperfect, mute woman who had no talent except for being an awkard klutz.  
  
I squirmed, trying to escape the warm homage in his lap. I don't want to do this; I don't want to torchure myself once more of a dream way too far to exist.  
  
"Please, sweetheart. Do this for the children. They need the money."  
  
Children. I groaned unexpectedly. He used children to bait me into his trap. How low of him, and he knew it would work. I loved children . . . even . . . even, um, er, even wanted one for myself. At this thought I drew my head up, with my eyes meeting with his, as if it was a condition deep in me when I mention children and Eriol. I knew my eyes revealed too much of how muck I loved this idiot whom I was treating like a chair, so I turned my head swiftly away.  
  
I could feel his heated gaze looking oddly at me, while his finger reached to caress my dainty chin. Fansy fingerwork, every graze of his callous, gentle hands made me shiver in fear and desire. Finally, his fingers moved my head to face him once again, as vulnerable as I was years before.  
  
"Do this for me. The children mean a lot to me. Plus, I want to show you off to my friends. They'll be an envious green, I swear."  
  
So this was all a plot to show me off to his cynical friends. Well I hope God damns them all to hell. Opps. I don't angels, even if they are ex- angels, are supposed to wish people are condemned to hell. But I could help but drown in those jet-lag sapphires, as dark as the sky and gentle as the moon; wicked with its power to bewitch me, I fell deeper. All I could do was nod reluctantly; eye contact still existed between us. Azul to amethyst.  
  
Then we kissed. The kissed I promised, the one I wanted myself. The one I needed to survive, to exist. Our tongues danced, my heart raced, and tears were forced to hold back for the pain suffocated me. This isn't real, simply a pity play, a toy; yet I wouldn't care. As long as I got to feel this, to feel almost loved, and pretend that maybe he did love me half as I loved him. Damn, why does my heart aches so? Why do I want more?  
  
Even when I can't get anymore than this current bliss?  
  
But what is bliss without reality? I wish this was reality; I really do.  
  
************* Preparations were getting done. Well, at least I was. Eriol personally had a dressmaker, apart from my objections about the money which he excused as nothing, the important thing was that I radiated beauty to blind all the men into lust and envy, while he has his arm tight upon my waist. Silks were thrown, satin was discarded, lace were intimidated by the glare of the dressmaker, until the dress of heavenly expectations was born with I as its captive. A quite content captive, actually.  
  
Such luxury was poisoning me, but I loved every minute of the material against my skin. It felt wonderful, like a princess to prepare for her debut, to meet with the gorgeous prince, and to live the happliest ever after. As I stand here, judging my appearance, moments away from the party, the mirror seem to discriminate every look. Nothing seem good enough for the rich and fortunate. All those ladies with their haunty looks sought with a prejudice eye, and I could bear being a second rate to them, to Eriol. A sighed.  
  
At this rate, Eriol Hiiragizawa would discard me sooner or later, like yesterday's last fallen leaf.  
  
"Beautiful. You truely are a wonderful sight, and I shall never leave your side because I'm afraid some worm might steal you, mi'lady, but you are mine for tonight. All mine to do as I wish, and you will beg me to taste you and possess every curve of your body. Think of that everytime a man even dares to approach you. Think of this."  
  
At this point, his heated breath was against my cheek, as the tips of his fingers fondled the bare swan neck that belongs to me. I shiver, not from the cold, but from the heat. My eyes turned into slits, as I tried to defy him, but then his nose took place of his finger, taking in my scent. Deeply erotic. After grazing the silk lands, his tongue played against my skin, creating a warm passage of blood to my face. A moan escaped, and my defective attempt to controll him failed, as I sunk into a land of pleasure.  
  
There he left with a satisfied smirk, that boyish grin that drives me into a puddle of liquid dreams. I'll show him! I will tonight. Then, dear Eriol, what will your charm do then? What will happen to your charm when I destroy you of all feeling and flirting with other women, and rap you in my spell? Are angels supposed to be thinking such wicked thought?  
  
Probably not. But angels can't kiss the passionate dance I shared with Eriol Hiiragizawa. Definitely not an option. Yet, love makes the world go round. I'm going to make Hiiragizawa's head go round by the end of the night, round with green jealousy. Should angels learn to lap dance?  
  
A/N: Lap dance? How am I supposed to make angels lap dance? May the force of Budda (sp?) be with me. 


End file.
